


Clinic Duty

by starhawk2005



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Het, Smut, the joys of self-insertion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 13:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhawk2005/pseuds/starhawk2005
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Co-written with <b>Katakombs</b> on LJ. House fills his clinic time with decidedly atypical medical practices…with Cameron</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clinic Duty

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: House and Cameron are the property of FOX. As wrong as that sounds.

“Dr. House!”  House turned the corner and moved as quickly as his cane would let him down the other hall. Unfortunately, not quickly enough. Dr. Lisa Cuddy caught him as he rounded the corner by the supply closet.

“I’ve been checking the records for the clinic last month,” she began, matching him step for limp. 

“Clever, those courses you keep going on, ‘administration’, they call them?  Teach you how to count clinic hours?” he got in.

“... and you’re behind another seven hours this month. Unless you can come up with an explanation...”

House quickly turned a corner and continued down the hall as fast as he could.  “Sick people, you know, patients, must go see them quickly. They like to have a doctor around.”

“... that actually makes sense. However, I’ll expect to see you fill in those hours in the next week. And since you’re scheduled to be in the clinic-” she looked at her watch “-twenty minutes ago, I suggest you turn around and head in that direction right now, or get yourself a map of the hospital.”  She moved in front of him and stopped, looking him straight in the eye.  Admitting defeat at last, House turned and headed toward the clinic.  Cuddy stood watching him for a moment with a gleam of triumph in her eyes, before heading off to yet another administrative meeting.  
  


*~*~*

 

The problem with being late for clinic duty was that he didn’t get to pick and choose his patients.  The head nurse kept a baleful eye on the stack of charts, and any attempt to select an easier one rather than the one on top of the list brought her charging down on him to hand him the next in line. So it was with an inward sigh that House read out the presenting diagnosis: delusions.  _Great,_ he thought, heading toward Room 2, _another nut case._ Who could he palm this one on to? 

Pushing open the door, House entered to find two women. One paced agitatedly around, the other sat calmly scribbling something in a spiral notebook. “What seems to be the problem, er, Ms. Hawk?” he asked the woman pacing around the room.

“Oh, not _me,_ ” she replied, continuing to walk and now beginning to wring her hands. “I’m not the patient.  That’s my friend, Star-” the woman with the notebook looked up and waved absently “-she’s the one who needs help. Are you the doctor?”

House leaned on his cane “Unfortunately for both of us, yes. What’s the problem?” He limped further into the room.

The woman with the notebook looked up from her writing for a minute.  “Nothing, nothing at all. Don’t need to be here. I’m busy. Go away and let me get back to work.”

“Oh, Star, don’t say that. He’s going to help you, I know he is. Everything will be all right.” The other woman in the room was visibly upset, still wringing her hands in her agitation. “I just don’t know what to do for her, doctor. I brought her here because I thought maybe you could help her. I’m so _worried_ about her. Do you see that notebook?  She’s convinced she can make the future happen, that if she writes things down, anything that she writes down, it will happen the way she writes them. She thinks she can change the world, just by ...”

“Oh, do be _quiet_ , Kat.” Star said, irritated.  “You’re interrupting my concentration.”

At that point there was a knock on the door, and Cameron hesitantly poked her head in. “Dr. House? I need to interrupt you. There’s a complication with the Kaplow-Moran case: no matter how many times we try to explain the difference between moderation and excess, he doesn’t seem to get it.”

“Fine, I’ll go speak to him and then get back to work.  You take care of these two, er, ladies, it’s a simple enough case.....”

Cuddy’s irritated voice interrupted him from the doorway.  “I heard that, House.  Don’t think you can get away with passing your work onto your fellows. You’re paid to teach them, they’re here to learn, and I don’t just mean how to skip clinic duty.”

Cameron looked awkwardly at House. “I was just about to tell you that Dr. Cuddy was standing just outside the door,” she said softly.

For a moment, House looked like he was about to try to make a break for it. Then he nodded once and said, “I’ll meet the three of you upstairs in few minutes.” Cameron smiled briefly and turned to the door, her lab coat stretched taut over her ass from her hands shoved in her pockets, and leaving behind a faint scent of lilies of the valley that sounded a wistful note amongst the antiseptic smells of the room.     

House looked after her, lost in the moment, until Kat’s pleading voice recalled him back to the clinic room, and he turned back to the women and picked up the chart.  “All right, let’s get this over with.”

Ignoring House, Star got a strange gleam in her eye, and started to scribble frantically.

  
  
*~*~*

 

“Delusional thinking.” House wrote on the whiteboard. 

“Compulsive note-taking behaviour.” ***  
  
** “Energetic writer – interferes with daily social and work functioning.”  


“Obsession with story plotting and details.”  


“Self-isolating behaviour.”

“Well, people?” he turned to the waiting fellows.

“Alcoholism or drug use can produce delusions,” volunteered Chase.

“True, but while there was the distinct smell of alcohol in the room, it was coming from the table by the supply cabinet, not the patient. No signs of needle marks, no malnutrition, runny nose or lost weekends.”

“Marijuana, then,” Chase wasn’t giving up. “You said she was Canadian. Or amphetamines, that’s common in academic circles and can cause the obsessive behaviour.”

“Lewy bodies.” suggested Foreman.

“Too young for that.” replied Cameron. “She’s only thirty.”

“But not too young for other forms of dementia,” broke in House. 

“We could do a Trails test to confirm,” volunteered Cameron.

“Any psychiatric history?” asked Foreman.

“Yes,” replied House. “But it’s not going to do us much good. ‘Claims she was on the therapist side of the locked door, and has the paperwork to prove it.”  

“Porphyria can cause paranoia and delusions,” volunteered Cameron.

“We just got rid of Mark, it’s not going to be porphyria again so soon,” Chase scoffed. “What about post partum psychosis?”

“She’s never been pregnant,” replied Cameron. “The delusions aren’t because she’s a woman and weak, lack of sleep would be a better option.”

“Lupus,” broke in Foreman.

“Get the blood test,” House instructed him. “Also, the cerebrospinal fluid for ADDL.”

“What about the self-isolating behaviour? Is that another symptom of paranoia?”

“’Claims she does it so that she’s not distracted from writing. Avoids work too, says it keeps her from thinking about potential plots.”

“Like playing with a Gameboy during clinic hours?” The sarcastic question was the first indication that Wilson had joined them.

“Sign of superior intelligence,” retorted House.

And on they continued, going around in circles.

The next day, House headed toward the exam room again, trying to take as long as he could to walk from the nursing station to the exam room, in order to draw out his clinic hours while doing the minimum of actual work.  Inside, the same sight as the day before met his eyes, Star scribbling away as if in a compulsion while Kat chewed her fingernails distractedly.  He entered and dropped his charts on the table.

“The tests are all negative, psychological tests as well as lab work. Physically, you are in good shape. There’s nothing we can find that would indicate there’s anything wrong, and you don’t appear to be incapacitated or upset about your condition. I figure that as long as it doesn’t injure anyone, a little delusional thinking never hurt. Get out of here so I can get out too, this place gives me the creeps.”

 

*~*~*

  


Some days later, in the early evening hours, House was busy leaning against the side of the Whiteboard, listening to the Ducklings trading diagnoses and tests back and forth, wondering privately whether he dared to fulfill Cuddy’s ‘more-clinic-hours’ command....but in his _own_ particular fashion.

Decision finally made, he broke into their discussion. “Foreman, you do the blood tests. Chase, run the urine screens. And then you can go. Cameron, you’re with me.” Allison might have been surprised to be singled out, but she knew better by now than to give anything away. House didn’t know if Chase or Foreman realized that their fellow Duckling was ‘banging the boss’, but even if they _did_ know, Allison wouldn’t have told them. Not after what had happened just before their first ‘official’ date, back when he’d coaxed her to return to work at PPTH.

Chase and Foreman did look questioningly at House, particularly Foreman, who still obviously did not trust House when it came to his ‘homegirl’ Cameron, but House just stared him down. Shrugging, they finally got up and left.

Allison also got to her feet. “What’s up?” she asked.

He didn’t want an argument, so he didn’t give her an explanation. “Come with me.” He limped out into the hallway, not waiting for her reply. And was very gratified to hear the click of her heels as she followed immediately along behind him. 

A long hallway. A short elevator ride. And then they were entering the Clinic, which had already closed up shop for the night. _Good._

“What are we doing here?” she asked him. “Don’t tell me you actually have a patient here, waiting for you?”

He didn’t answer immediately, just hitched himself over to Exam Room 2, reaching for his master key when the door proved to be locked. Unlocking the door, he finally turned, to meet Allison’s slightly confused blue eyes.

“No. But I have a little _experiment_ I want to try out. And I need you to help me with it.” Managing to keep a straight face as he said it.

“Uh-huh.” She didn’t look convinced, but House maintained his ‘serious doctor’ façade as he pushed the door open, motioning her in ahead of him. She just stood there for a moment, looking up at the ceiling and shaking her head – oh, she was onto him, all right \- but then she walked into the exam room without challenging him further.

He limped in himself, and then shut the door, making sure it was locked behind them. When he turned to face the room, Allison was standing in the middle of it, next to the examination table, arms crossed and a sly look on her face. “Why do I get the feeling that your little ‘experiment’ is going to require me to remove my clothes?”

“Is that what you feel?” he asked, widening his eyes at her in theatrical surprise, as he limped over to her.

“Yup.” She raised her eyebrows, plainly waiting to see what he would do. 

“Well, you’re _wrong_ , Dr. Cameron. You’re _not_ required to remove your clothes.”

“No?” She obviously didn’t believe him. _This is what comes of someone knowing you too well_ , he thought to himself. Not that such a thing was _all_ bad, though. He laid his cane across the examination table, leaning his weight against the side of the table instead.

“No. _I’ll_ do that.” He reached over and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her closer, and then tugged at her crossed arms. “You’re not being a very cooperative research subject,” he opined, when he couldn’t get her arms loose…not without fighting her.

“Greg, what if someone catches us?” She continued to resist his attempt to uncross her arms.

“Well, unless you’ve become a screamer since we were engaging in ‘bedroom aerobics of the naked variety’ last night-” Allison actually blushed at this, which amused House to no end - “I imagine we should be undisturbed. C’mon, stop defying your boss.”

“You’re only my boss during work hours. This qualifies as _not-work_ hours.” She shot back at him, deliberately being a brat, now – he could see it in the coy little smile she was wearing. Luckily for her, he had always found that look to be quite the turn-on.

“This qualifies as overtime. So _still_ work-hours. Arms down, _now_.” He put his best commanding growl into his voice. It was a tone that had always worked on Allison in the past, and it didn’t fail him now, as she suddenly swallowed hard, and put her arms down by her sides.

“That’s better. You of all people should know the importance of medical research, Allison,” he said, starting to unbutton her lab coat. “How could we cure our hapless patients, without the advances that medical science has given us?” Again, he was pretending to be taking the whole thing seriously, as if he wasn’t disrobing his girlfriend in the middle of an empty clinic. Allison looked like she was going to start giggling any second.

He finished unbuttoning her coat, pulling it down her arms, and then tossed it to land on the small room’s single chair. When he turned back, she had moved much closer, her face tilted up for a kiss, but he wasn’t about to let her be the _only_ brat in the room.

“Uh-uh, Allison,” he said, easily avoiding her attempt to kiss him. There were some decided advantages to being tall. “That’ll skew the results of our testing. Arms up, now.” He waited until she complied, dropping her head back down and backing away with her arms raised, and then he reached for the hem of her sweater, slowly pulling it up until it was half-way off her head. He briefly considered leaving her like that, effectively blindfolded by the sweater over her eyes, arms entangled in the fabric, briefly even considered leaning forward and kissing her, but he resisted both impulses, pulling the sweater completely off her, and tossing it onto the chair as well.

“Does this mean you’re going to be conducting these tests on other members of the staff, as well? 

Maybe Dr.

Chase or Dr. Foreman?” she asked teasingly.

He scrunched up his face, as if he was giving the matter careful consideration, while he busied himself undoing her pants. He gave them a hard shove, so they’d fall and pool around her feet. “Chase, maybe. He’d do anything to get back into my good graces, little suck-up that he is. Foreman, though...” he shook his head. “I don’t think he’s as committed to this kind of _research_ as you are.”

“You still haven’t told me what this ‘research’ _is_ , Dr. House,” she said, smiling.

“And I don’t want to potentially bias the results, by giving away the _true_ purpose of my study right now. I’ll debrief you later...and speaking of _briefs_....or _rather_ , bikinis - whatever it is you call these female underthings these days...” He hooked his fingers under the waistband of her panties, leaning down a bit to slide them down to her knees, and then letting them drop down to join her pants on the floor.

She was standing there in only her bra - _Interesting picture_ , he thought – but it would have to go, too. _We must remove all impediments to ‘research’,_ he snarked to himself, reaching around her to undo the clasp with practiced ease.

He tossed the bra towards the chair, and then motioned her to step completely out of the pile of pants and underwear, and then directing her to kick them out of the way as well.

As she returned to his side, he ordered her to turn around and face away from him. He used the opportunity to take her hair out of its customary ponytail, loosening the strands so that they fell in loose dark waves over her shoulders. He pocketed the elastic, ordering her to turn and face him again, and then he shifted back a pace or two to admire her.

_So beautiful._ He didn’t know how he had _ever_ managed to resist her considerable charms for so long. Had Stacy’s betrayal really hurt him so badly, that he’d grown effectively immune to gorgeous females? It seemed to have been the case….Good thing he’d finally woken up to that fact not too long ago.

“House,” Allison said, starting to look uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

“Sssh. I’m gathering data,” he admonished her. He let his gaze travel down her body, from head to toe. That soft, dark hair that he loved to twist around his fingers when they were lying in bed at night. Those lovely clear blue eyes. Delicate pink mouth. Skin that was as pale as ivory and that always felt like dry silk under his hands. And he was already hardening inside his jeans, as he thought of what he planned to do with her…

He resisted the urge to touch that skin, that hair - for the moment – instead continuing to ‘gather data’. His eyes moving down to take in beautifully pale breasts, the left one a little rounder and larger than the right – which was, of course, completely normal – her nipples nearly the same colour as her lips…he’d had almost instant hard-ons at PPTH for nearly a whole week after he’d first discovered that fact....it had only taken one glance at her face - her lips - to remind him powerfully of what lay under those cute little vests of hers. And now his gaze moved further down to her slender waist, the smooth flare of her hips, the neatly trimmed curls between her thighs, those long shapely legs, her feet with their painted toenails…nails painted a different colour than her fingernails, the diagnostician in him noticed... ‘Examination’ completed, House moved to the next ‘item’ on his internal agenda.

Limping back towards her, he ordered her to bend at the waist, hands braced on the edge of the examination table. Her nipples were already hard, he noticed, and she seemed to be shaking slightly.

“Cold, Allison?” he asked. 

“A little,” she admitted.

“Well, don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.” He limped quickly over to the wheeled stool in the corner, sitting on it and pushing with his good leg to bring himself back to her side.

He positioned himself close by her left side, reaching out to touch her hair first, scooping the loose strands up in his hands and letting them slip through his fingers. Raising a few strands to his nose, to breathe in the floral-spicy scent. Sliding his hands next around the nape of her neck, massaging the muscles there. He listened to her sigh, feeling her starting to relax already. He grinned to himself, always pleased by how quickly she responded to him, even to something as simple as a neck-rub.

He let his hands drop to her shoulders next, enjoying the feel of her skin sliding under his fingertips as he kneaded and pressed. She purred, and he let his grin shift into a full-blown smirk. _Why didn’t I think of trying this sooner? This beats playing Gameboy in the Clinic,_ any _day._

Next it was her back he explored, using a mixture of massages and caresses to cover the familiar territory, tracing the knobs of her spine as his hand slipped down. Pausing to explore the two dimples at the base of her tailbone, feeling her squirm a little - ticklish - under his fingers.

He let his hands drop away for a moment, and then made a gentle grab for her dangling breasts, Allison jumping a little and gasping in response. He let his thumbs trace over the undersides of her breasts as his fingers pressed against her nipples, rolling the stool closer so that he could lean his coarse cheek against her side as he teased her. Knowing that the sharp prickles of his stubble would only serve to arouse even further. Breathing in the faint scent of her skin, the scent that was uniquely _Allison_ …

She was trembling a little, moaning low in her throat as he gently pinched and twisted the firm little nubs in his fingers, and then he raised his cheek carefully off her side so he could lean over and raise the nearest nipple to his mouth to suck on it. He took his time, sucking now softly, now harder, then releasing her so that he could lick at the tight flesh, all the while enjoying the sounds she was making, the way she pressed her side against him…

Finally releasing her breasts, he rolled the stool over and behind her, reaching his hands between her legs to nudge her thighs further apart. If she was still afraid of them being discovered, she was hiding it well, spreading her thighs wide for him with no hesitation. He was getting painfully hard, now, as he parted her folds and witnessed the evidence of her arousal, diagnostician and man alike both noting how puffy her labia were, the shiny-wet surfaces of her skin, the way she moaned as he exposed her. He brushed his knuckles lightly over her swollen clit, wringing a gasp from her lips, and felt himself twitching in response. So tempting, to just drop his pants and _take_ her, right now…

But there were too many other delights to be had, and he had no intention of passing them up. _Besides, the best exam is a_ thorough _exam_ , he said to himself. And so he leaned forward, dipping his head down, and applied his tongue to the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, wetting the skin with his tongue, drawing unhurried lines up her legs, trying to ignore the insistent throb between his own…Her skin tasted as good as it smelled, though, so he wasn’t going to complain. Not at all.

Finally, it was time for the ‘dessert course’, as he pressed his face into her crisp fur…pausing to breathe deep several times, tasting the honey and the musk of her in the back of his throat, long before his tongue flickered out to sample her flavour…it felt like every last drop of blood in his body was going straight to his dick, but he managed to have the presence of mind to put together a coherent sentence, to groan against her soaking flesh, “ _God_ , I love the way you taste, sweetheart.” Listening to her answering moan as he finally gave in to his own need, determined to gorge himself on her sweetness.

Then there was nothing but Allison, her scent and taste filling his entire awareness, as he drew her folds into his mouth to suck on gently, as he let his sharp stubble prick her soft flesh, a move again designed to arouse. Moving his mouth upwards, letting his tongue trace the entry to her body, and then dipping inside to taste her there...and then, sliding his hands between her thighs and around her belly to lock over her hips, holding her still so he could easily manipulate the tiny organ between her legs, the tip of his tongue toying with her engorged clit for a few long moments while she moaned and squirmed, before he took it full into his mouth...

She was begging him in a low voice, whispering his name as he moved his head a little back and forth, stubble scraping her lightly while his mouth continued to hold her button captive. He pulled back sharply, breaking the seal of his mouth over her clit with a muted pop, causing her to gasp even louder, and then he was loosening his right hand from around her hips, so he could push two fingers into her tight sheath. He moved them back and forth against the slippery silk walls inside her, his mouth going back to her clit and working to coax her into an orgasm as quickly as possible...

She was pressing back against him forcefully, and he had to plant his good leg hard on the floor to keep the wheeled stool in place - _Should’ve locked the damn wheels down earlier_ , he berated himself - and keep his other arm locked tight around her hip. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold this position for long, and in any case, his fingers weren’t the only thing that was aching to get inside Allison Cameron. So he didn’t hold back, matching her reflexive movements thrust for thrust, increasing the pressure of his mouth steadily against her clit. Until she exhaled in a low drawn-out moan and her strong muscles clenched around his fingers, and he felt the waters of her release trickling down over his invading hand, even down to where his lips still touched her...

He removed his fingers from inside her and again wrapped his arm under and around her hip, holding her up while he enjoyed the wine of his labours, licking greedily at the residue of her pleasure. She was still shuddering with the aftershocks under his hands, and he allowed himself to feel pride at the fact that a crippled old _geezer_ like him still knew a thing or two about how to please a woman.

Finally sated (and once he was sure she wouldn’t just collapse right onto the floor without him holding her up), he released his grip on her and told her to get up on the examination table. He sat back and watched her perform this operation, taking in the sweaty, flushed skin of her chest and throat, the slow lethargy of her movements post-orgasm. But her brain seemed to be coming on-line faster than her body, as she settled herself in a seated position, smiling at him, and ran a critical eye down his body.

“Why do you get to keep your clothes on, Dr. House? Shouldn’t you be naked, too, as a _participant_ in this ‘research’?”

_No,_ he thought, _because it’ll take me too damn_ long t _o get everything back on again. And undressing could hurt my thigh more than it already_ is _._ And _I’d rather save my energy for screwing you._ But all he said was, “Because _I’m_ the boss. Me experimenter, you subject.”

“And what if I wanted to run my _own_ experiment, Dr. House? One that wouldn’t interfere with - in fact, might even _enhance_ \- your own ‘study’?” she asked, wearing that coy little smile he knew so well.

He may have wanted to keep in control, to keep in role, but the insistent ache currently hovering in the vicinity of his crotch - even more insistent than the usual pain in his thigh - made him curious to see what Allison had in mind. “Oh, _fine_ ,” he said, pretending annoyance. “That’s what I get for trying to do _serious_ research with you.”

Allison paid no attention to his complaining, however. Instead, she picked his cane up from where it was lying next to her on the exam table, and held it out to him, asking him to get up and come over to her. He complied, limping forward until he could lean one side against the edge of the table, right between her thighs. He took the proffered cane, but only propped it against the side of the table, wanting both hands to use on Allison when the opportunity arose.

He was crotch-level with the table, which was apparently fortuitous, as Allison got up on her knees and started to undo the snap of his jeans, clearly intending to return the favour. He grinned inwardly, while putting on a surprised outer expression. “Why, Dr. Cameron,” he drawled, “Don’t tell me you’re going to _debrief_ me, before you’ve even started your study? Isn’t that usually counter-indicated?”

“Well, if you prefer that I just tease you through your briefs, we could try that, Dr. House.” She shoved his jeans down to his knees, and then leaned down and wrapped her arms around his ass, pressing her lips to the hot bulge in his underwear.

Her warm breath cut through the fabric as if his dick was already naked, and he threw his head back and put out his hands, gripping her shoulders, as she rubbed her lips along the fabric that separated her mouth from his ache.

He could feel the dampness as she started to use her tongue, wetting the fabric stretched across the underside of his cock, and he had to let go of her shoulders, shifting his white-knuckled grip to the edge of the table, not wanting to squeeze too hard and hurt her. She moved her tongue up, teasing underneath the crown of his cock through the fabric, and now House found himself fighting to stay quiet. Not that she hadn’t done this to him before, but….slowing things down with his briefs in the way did add a certain _je ne sais quoi_.

He waited until he couldn’t stand it any longer, and then his hands were back on her shoulders, pushing her back so he could shove his briefs down and out of the way. “Change your mind about the _de-briefing_ , Dr. House?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him.

He growled low in his throat. “Brat.” he said.

“Yes, I _am_ …but that’s why you love me.” she said. And then her mouth was wrapped around him.

“True.” he gasped out - almost unaware of what he was agreeing to (the dreaded ‘L’ word) - and then he was gripping the table again, fighting to keep his balance, but still relishing the feel of her soft tongue and the heat and pressure of her mouth, the coolness of her saliva on his skin when she would pull back momentarily…and then the renewed heat as she took him in again.

He leaned as much weight as possible against the table, eyes squeezed shut and stars flashing behind his eyelids as Allison moved her mouth along his shaft…and then she stopped. His eyes opened, to find her looking up at him. He wasn’t anywhere close to coming, but any protest he might have made was stopped short when she urged him to shuffle over by the head of the table.

_What is she up to, now?_ he wondered, holding his pants up and edging towards the side of the table she had indicated. _Is this the ‘experiment’ she was talking about?_

As he’d been positioning himself, Allison was also changing position, lying down on the table on her back, her head closest to him, and it slowly dawned on him what she was going to do as she pushed herself towards him, until her neck was at the edge of the table and her head was hanging off it, tipped far back.

She’d tried to deep-throat him once in the recent past and had gagged quite spectacularly – he wasn’t some 12-inch wonder, but 8-and-a-half-inches was still a sizable amount of manhood – and now she seemed eager to try again, with an alteration in technique.

He had his suspicions confirmed when she reached over her head and for his hips, pulling his clothing back down out of the way, and then tugging him gently forward. He resisted a moment, though. “Allison, are you sure you want to try this again?”

“Yes. Now get over here, Dr. House. Surely you want to look down my throat with your ‘medical instrument’…”

He let her take full control of him, not wanting to hurt her accidentally, moving carefully forward in response to her urging, feeling her slide him deeper and deeper into her mouth…

He braced one hand on the table, and then moved the other one under her neck…the edge of the exam table was padded, but most women, in his experience, didn’t have Herculean neck muscles, so helping her out was the gentlemanly thing to do…

“Oh, God, _Allison_ …”, he gasped out, as she took him in deeper than she ever had before. Trying to remember to tighten the hand braced on the table and _not_ the one around the back of her neck. Trying to remember how to _breathe_. And when her lips finally pressed against the graying hairs clustered around the base of his cock, the sensation threatened to undo him. The heat and wetness of her mouth, her throat, wrapped around his entire shaft for the first time…it was indescribable.

She shifted her grip on his hips, moving him slowly in and out of her mouth and throat, and he did his best to move with her, to let her determine how fast or how deep she wanted him to be. He had to close his eyes again, drinking in the sensations even as he fought the natural urge to take control, to thrust into her…it didn’t take long for Allison to get him right on the edge, and that was when, paradoxically, rational thought reasserted itself.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spill himself inside her, or that he was worried that he’d hurt her, but rather that they were ‘on the clock’, as it were. And if he allowed himself to climax now, they’d have to wait at least 20 minutes for him to be ready to go again, and he wasn’t willing to wait that long.

“Stop.” he ordered her. He backed slowly away, removing himself from her mouth, shaking his head at the worried expression on her face. Typical Allison, to worry that she had offended or hurt him somehow. _Typical_ me, he thought _, acting in ways that make her think she’s somehow to blame_. “Not that I wasn’t enjoying your… _performance_ …but I’m still the primary investigator here, and so _my_ experiment takes precedence.

He suddenly realized how hot and sweaty he was, and so despite his earlier plans to stay dressed, he rapidly stripped off his blazer and button-down, dropping them heedlessly on the floor. Allison had rolled over and sat up, and was watching him, obviously trying to figure out what he was planning.

He limped past her, holding up his jeans again, going for the drawer with the pack of condoms that every exam room in PPTH had…one might be surprised at how many people – teens and pre-teens, mostly, but _not_ always - had received their first ever safe-sex talk in one of these rooms. Finding his quarry, he grabbed one of the condoms and hitched his way back to the exam table and the lovely young woman sitting naked on it.

When he was close enough, he grabbed her upper arms, pulling her forward until he could kiss her, driving his tongue deep into her mouth, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against his chest…God, he loved her. He’d probably never have the _cojones_ to say it _out loud_ , but…

He finally broke the kiss, and then pushed his jeans and briefs down one final time, enlisting Allison’s help to roll on the condom. And then he ordered her to lie down. When she started to lie back along the length of the table, he stopped her, instead instructing her to lie back right where she was, her body sprawled along the width of the table. It wasn’t very wide at all, so she wound up with her head, shoulders, arms, and the top portion of her back hanging off one edge, and her hips balanced precariously at the edge of the table closest to him….but this was exactly how he wanted her. The blood rushing to her head from this position, she was a little helpless, a little vulnerable …and completely his.

House took a firm grip on her hips to make sure she wasn’t going anywhere (such as falling backwards), and then slid himself all the way into her in one firm stroke. She gasped, her inner muscles rippling around him, and he had to grit his teeth for control, trying not to come from the sheer heat and movement inside her, from the slick wetness of her that he could feel even through the thin latex.

When he was finally certain that he wasn’t going to explode inside her too soon, he began to move, pushing and pulling relentlessly inside her, closing his eyes and drinking in the sensations, the throb in his thigh a distant memory as the much more powerful throbbing of his cock took over everything else. He’d found his heaven, and it wasn’t at the bottom of a pill-bottle, but between Allison’s white thighs…

Her cries were getting louder, and he knew that the head-down position was going to magnify everything for her, would boost the orgasm she was about to experience in particularly _interesting_ ways…and he thought his heart might give out if he stayed at this for too much longer, so he let one hand slip between her thighs, applying pressure on her clit in time with his urgent lunges inside her, until she cried out and came…

He couldn’t have held back even if he’d wanted to (and he didn’t), a last few powerful thrusts being all he needed before he groaned deep in his chest and white-hot lights danced behind his closed eyes, erupting deep inside Allison…

He came back to himself to find his thigh protesting mightily, his body still connected to Allison’s. He slid himself out of her gently, and then helped her to sit back up on the table. He then grabbed his cane from where he had left it, using it to hook one of the legs of the stool, and dragging it towards him. He sat down heavily once he had pulled it into reach, and then used the cane to retrieve his blazer and button-down from the floor. Still breathing heavily, he dug through his blazer pocket, all other considerations secondary to getting a Vicodin into his system. And after he finally dry-swallowed two pills, he looked up to meet Allison’s heavy-lidded gaze.

“How did that feel?” he asked her, rubbing one palm over his sweaty stubbled cheeks, trying to get his heart to slow down.

“That…was… _intense_. I’ve never felt anything like that…Hell, I’ve never even _tried_ that before. What made you think of doing that?”

He shrugged. “Probably came from the same place as your little ‘Debbie Deep-Throats Dallas’ trick. C’mere.” He motioned her over.

When she was standing in front of him, he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face between the soft mounds of her breasts. They stood there for several long moments, holding each other, letting their bodies cool, collecting their wits.

Finally, quietly, they went about the business of cleansing themselves, of getting dressed, and of making sure that nothing in Exam Room 2 would betray their recent activities.

“So, Dr. House,” Allison said, tugging her lab coat back on once they had finished cleaning up, “Did you collect enough ‘data’ for the purposes of your study? Or will you need more subjects?” She gave him another of her coy little smiles.

Smirking in return, he said, “I may well need more data, Dr. Cameron, but I think this would be best as a case study. So I won’t need any more subjects, _other_ than yourself. If you think you’d be available for other ‘testing sessions’, that is…”

“I’ll have to check with my boss. He can be _really_ demanding at times.”

“Yes, I’ve heard he’s quite the old lecher. How _unfortunate_ for you.” he said.

“Old? _Nah_ , he’s still got quite a few good years left in him…” Allison batted her eyelashes at House again, and then unlocked the door and walked out of the exam room.

House, with the ever-present obsessiveness for detail that had made him such a sought-after diagnostician, carefully looked around the room one more time, to make sure they had left no incriminating evidence behind. He found nothing of his and Cameron’s, but something which had apparently fallen under the room’s single chair caught his eye.  It looked like a piece of lined paper torn from a notebook, with an almost-illegible scribbled writing all over it. Curiosity piqued, he bent down to pick it up, and his own name caught his eye. The handwriting was difficult to read, but from what he could make out, it was part of a description of his ‘experiment’ with Cameron, the very activities that he just carried out mere moments ago, in all its details. How could this have gotten here?  Moreover, how could there be something written down so precisely about a scenario he had planned only that afternoon, and only just participated in _now_? 

Then he remembered the patient he had seen earlier that day. Could it have been left by her, could it be true that Star Hawk was not delusional, as they had thought, but really _was_ able to affect things? That what she wrote down really _did_ happen?  The more he pondered it, the more intriguing the thought became. And if it _were_ true, it could be potentially useful, House reasoned. He wondered if he could bribe her into writing down a little scenario he’d been thinking about doing with Allison for awhile, now....  
  


*~*~*

 

The next day, House had resigned himself to more clinic hours. _That’s what comes of not accepting referrals to the Department of Diagnostic Medicine,_ he told himself. Not that it was going to make any difference; as long as he had the choice, he wasn’t going to see _any_ patients he didn’t absolutely have to, unless the puzzle they presented was really, really good.

He was just heading toward the reception desk in the clinic, to pick up his second chart of the morning, when Cuddy came in to check on something in the clinic. She looked over at him as she signed the records. “I’m glad to see you’re here and making up your time. Much easier for me than trying to track you down, or to find other doctors to make up your hours.” 

“You wound me,” House clutched his cane to his chest. “And so does that shirt, you’d think for the money you probably paid that they would give you enough material to actually _cover_ you. And for your information, I _have_ been putting in extra clinic hours these past couple of days.”

“Doing what? Polishing off invaders on your Gameboy?”

“Excellent _idea_ , Dr. Cuddy, I can save the universe and get more clinic hours done at the same time. But, as a matter of fact, you’re wrong about that. I _have_ been ‘treating’ real human beings. Just ask Dr. Cameron, she’ll _vouch_ for me.”

“Because Cameron will give me a truthful answer, I suppose?” Cuddy asked skeptically.

“How could you _ever_ doubt those doe-like eyes and pathetic sincerity?”

Cuddy just gave him a narrow-eyed look, suspicious at the familiar too-innocent expression on his face, but unable to catch him out on anything specific.

But House wasn’t finished. “I’ve put in plenty of hours here. I know Exam Room 2 very well by now, and in fact, I’m planning right now on spending even _more_ time there in the near future.” And with that, he picked up the next chart and, leaving her standing there, limped on to the examination room, all the while planning how to get in touch with Star, as soon as he could.

==========================================  
 ***The symptom “compulsive note-taking behaviour” comes from a classic study in which graduate students were admitted to mental hospitals on the basis of “hearing voices”, and diagnosed as schizophrenic.  As the students wrote notes about the circumstances of their stay, the staff labeled their actions as “compulsive note-taking behaviour”.**

 


End file.
